


Because Of A Horse

by ktbl



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: Yuna finds a horse that looks like the twin of Jin's samurai-trained beast, and her determination to get it for him puts her life and safety at risk. The consequences of her pursuit are life-changing.
Relationships: Jin Sakai/Yuna
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	Because Of A Horse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



She would swear to every kami until her dying day that it was Jin’s horse. 

It didn’t matter that Jin had sworn his horse had died, that he’d mourned it in conversations over the past weeks and months. This horse was the spitting image of Jin’s prized beast, and after everything he’d been through, he deserved to have something good in his life. 

Yuna spread her hand out on the rough bark of the tree and bit down on the inside of her cheek. She could easily steal the horse - it was in a Mongol camp, after all, and they deserved nothing they had taken from Tsushima. It would be difficult, though; these Mongols guarded their horse strings with their lives, as well as the hulking muscular guard dogs and the fierce keen-eyed hunting hawks. She would need to wait until the cover of night, and then find the stocky, muscular horse in amongst the string, capture it, and take it - and hers, and her gear - down to Jin’s new home.

Her heartbeat slowly and steadily in her chest as she weighed her choices. She hadn’t gotten this far in life by being hasty, and it would be necessary for her to plan this carefully. He would be thrilled when she came back with a proper samurai mount for him. Jin rarely complained about little things – one of the hundred things she appreciated about him – but she knew he was missing the well-trained samurai mount he’d grown to care for.

She just wished that at some point he might realize she cared for him, too. She couldn’t say it – no, Jin was still samurai no matter what he’d said or done, and certain things about him always would be that way. Couldn’t blame him for how he was raised, after all.

Yuna backed away from the camp, trying to keep her steps as silent as possible as she retreated back. She’d hobbled her own mount in a clearing, and once she was confident she hadn’t been seen by the Mongols, she turned back and moved quickly through the trees. It would be just her luck if the damned beast had decided to sidle up and join the Mongol string. She would prefer sneaking back through the trees to get back to her mare instead of losing her entirely.

Her mind was intent on planning her return to the camp, somewhat more prepared – and how to dispose of the rest of the horses. Maybe she should bring Jin with her; it would be good to work with him again. They had been pressing the Mongols from both sides, and it was clear the abandoned invaders were already feeling the pressure from their broken supply lines and the regular, consistent work of the Ghost – and herself.

They hadn’t done something together in a while, and she found she missed it.

“Hah.” She let out a soft chuckle, at the thought. It was barely a breath, the first sound she’d let pass her lips since she’d scouted the camp. Satisfaction danced through her as she pushed through the last thicket and heard the low, almost conversational, whicker of her mare.

Yuna froze, sighting a guard and stopped all her movement. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, focusing on her breathing. In and out, slowly and carefully. She must remain calm, despite the pounding of her heart with the surprise of the man in the clearing. He was sizing up her horse – it was a fine beast, but it was hers – and checking it over.

She slid her bow into her hand, fingers curving around it and settling into their familiar position over the worn leather of the grip. With slow and careful movements, Yuna pulled an arrow from her quiver and set it to the bowstring. These motions were nearly rote, and she let habit and practice take over from conscious thought. The most important part was to take the Mongol out before he could wonder where the horse’s rider was and call out a warning. He seemed willing to be fascinated enough with the mare to be distracted, and she was willing to take advantage of it.

She brought her bow up, pulling back on the string until the tension was just perfect, the fletching brushing gently as a fingertip against her cheek until it passed back to where it should rest. She shifted slightly, and her gaze narrowed to the space between her and the Mongol, with just enough awareness for her mare. A subtle twitch of her hands, a tilt of her thumb and a loosening of her middle finger, and she tracked him, taking in a breath and counting her heartbeats.

One.

Two.

He cleared away from the mare, making pleased sounds in that harsh language of his she loathed.

Three, as he turned away from the mare – and towards her. A shot right in the throat, before he had a chance to register her presence. Long arrows, it would take him down nicely, before he noticed more than the hum of feathers through the air. She exhaled and let her fingers slip off the string, freeing the arrow to fly true towards her target. Another perfect shot.

Except for the fact that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. His step slightly off on the uneven ground, he slid – just a handsbreath, but enough that her perfect shot from the brush was ruined. Her arrow went wide, thrumming past her ear quick as Shigenori’s lightning. She swore and ducked down into the thicket, but she had been confident – and slow.

She slung her bow back over her body and reached for the battered hilt of her taichi, fingers clenching around the hilt and tight with nervousness. She didn’t like close combat – she liked to get in and out and not be seen, and this was rapidly turning into a mess worthy of Jin.

Her life had been pure havoc since the Mongols showed up, and she got herself entangled with him, and she could not afford to think about that right now. She pulled her taichi out in a single rapid movement and ran forward, surprising the Mongol as he pulled out one of the slightly curved, thicker blades some of them favored. The longer this lasted, the more likely it was he would call out for help and bring more Mongols running. She couldn’t afford it.

Yuna dodged several blows, twisting away at the last minute while she looked for a soft spot, a vulnerable place she could take advantage of. She found one, eyes seizing on a break in his armor. She danced backwards on sandaled feet, letting him press his attack, and eventually overextend himself. Then, the minute she caught him unbalanced, she slid under his guard, taichi sliding through his space. She felt the pressure and resistance as her blade connected with him, and then a sudden lack of resistance as he tumbled to the ground.

Her eyes focused on him, watching for any last signs of life, as she wiped off her blade and slid it back into position at her hip. Satisfied with the lack of movement she saw, she knelt down on the pine needles and loamy earth beside the body.

She frisked the corpse with a professional speed, stripping off the collection of coins and decorations he wore, his arrows and bow, shield, and other little accoutrements that she thought could be useful. She unhobbled her mare and then swung into the saddle, turning the beast’s nose first away from the place Jin now called home. She took a roundabout route, going up onto one of the roads that criss-crossed the island, and then taking her mare off in another direction before heading back, truly aimed for Jin. If the Mongols tried to track her, they’d find her mare’s hoofprints muddied and blended with those of other beasts, and probably not worth pursuit.

She hoped, anyway.

Humming softly to herself as she rode, Yuna allowed herself some time to think of letting down her guard with Jin, allowing herself to relax. After all of their shared experiences, it was easy to do it with him; at times, they barely needed to talk, simply communicating with facial expressions. It was probably comedic if anyone else was watching, but it made her think of how easy it was to be with him.

Even if he had been the reason Taka died – he had been the reason Taka had lived a little longer, too.

Yuna closed her eyes tightly against the pain that wriggled free as she picked at the scab over the emotional wound, rubbing a little more salt in it. It was deep-running, and she had a feeling it would never quite heal, but the moment she found herself almost happy were also the moments she needed to remind herself of what it had taken to get her this far.

“Come on,” she murmured to the mare. “Let’s go give Jin a hard time. I bet you he’s going to be sitting outside oblivious to everything, or maybe he won’t be home at all and is off facing down a dozen Mongols over a bag of rice.”

The mare whickered, lifting up her head and dropping it a few times as if to nod. Yuna spared a quiet laugh, slapping the sleek muscle of the mare’s neck.

“You’re too smart to take that bet, I know.”

They rode quietly down around villages, and Yuna felt her body warring with itself as she rode. Her heart was happy to see fewer and fewer signs of Mongols as she rode, the signs of villages rebuilding, farmers loudly debating between each other on if they could plant again this season. Things were loud despite the marked absence of so many people; some of the villages seemed nearly normal again. The scent of incense wafted into her nose as she rode past one of the many cemeteries, and she sucked in a breath as her stomach twisted with pain, but she guided her mare onwards with her knees, towards Jin.

“You’re not paying attention.” Yuna swung off her horse outside his shelter, dropping onto the ground with a soft thud. Her stomach briefly twisted in on itself, how he didn’t look up – how he barely even noticed she had arrived. His hair had gone longer and a little shaggy, and his face was shadowed with stubble. He hadn’t been sleeping well; she could tell by the dark circles under his eyes, lending him the look of a tanuki. He looked like a fisherman or a villager in hakama and jacket, the late afternoon light lending him a golden glow as he sharpened his taichi.

“Yuna!” He looked up at her from his seat on the ground, a bright smile splitting his face. Her stomach twisted for an entirely different reason. She forced that feeling down and away, and scoffed instead.

“What if I had been someone sent to kill you? You’re getting slow.” She pulled off her mare’s tack, turning her out into the small space Jin had set aside for his own beast.

“I heard your horse coming, and I’ve been expecting you.”

“Right. I could have shot you from the cover of the treeline,” she countered, trying not to keep the worry from her voice. She replaced it with annoyance and exasperation, which he was definitely familiar with. He was so confident and assured, but he was an idiot. He still hadn’t learned to take care of himself; didn’t he realize how important he as? “Or I could have been the scout for a group of Mongols, or-“

“Yuna, it’s good to see you,” he said firmly with a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. She rolled her eyes at his relaxed response. “It’s been weeks. I had almost thought you’d found a ship to the mainland, like you always talked about.”

“There’s nothing for me there.” She pulled a pair of gourds from her saddlebags, tossing one to Jin. He caught it, grunting softly at the heft of it. “Kenji sends his regards.”

“Oh, is this Kenji’s brewing?” His tone seemed skeptical, and she laughed, walking over to drop on the ground near him.

“It’s getting better. And it’s free sake, which is just fine for me. I brought a few gourds, and some rice, and a few other things. It’s the least I could do.” She leaned against the side of the shelter and drew one knee up towards her chest, stretching the other out. “Everyone’s willing to donate a little something when I mention it’s for the Ghost.”

“I still hate it.”

“Hate what?” She blinked, tilting her head and feeling her forehead wrinkle with confusion.

“The way they set me up,” he explained, sheathing the sword. He looked ahead, and then at her, and then back out away from her again. He pulled a knee towards his chest to mimic her, what seemed an unconscious movement. “You… I guess you’re close enough to them they don’t make you into an idol like that. But I haven’t been able to avoid it. All the Lord Sakai going on. Even now…” he trailed off and made an expansive gesture, fingers spreading wide, before he dropped it over his knee. “Sometimes I feel like I’m more the story than the person now.”

“Well, I said before – the Ghost belongs to everyone. You’re the Ghost, and Lord Sakai to some people, still. And Jin to others. I’m just Yuna.” She shrugged, tipping her head back.

“Hey there. ‘Just Yuna’ is the one who saved my life and kept me from doing too much that was overly foolish.” He looked at her sidelong again, mouth half-open as if he was going to continue. His jaw snapped shut and he looked away again. “You’re just as many things, to as many people. And they think there are two Ghosts sometimes. I hear what people say,” he said quickly, before she could interrupt. “We’re both doing the work of the Ghost.”

“I’m a thief, Jin. I won’t ever be admired like you are.” She let out a half-laugh, and began working open the gourd of sake with her thumbnail.

Catching her movements, Jin turned to look at her again, and his eyes widened. She could see him stop himself from leaning forward, his hand abruptly freezing halfway out towards her. “Your arm! What happened?”

She blinked in bemusement as she opened the gourd, and looked down at her arms. The fabric of her jacket rippled in the breeze, and then she caught it – the Mongol must have sliced through her sleeve during their fight, tearing the fabric. She hadn’t felt any injury; had the flush of victory made her neglect a wound?

“Had a close encounter with the Mongols on my way back down,” she said carefully, looking at the cut in her jacket. “But I’m not hurt. There was a bit of a fight, and I hadn’t realized he damaged my clothes.” She sighed and closed her eyes with resignation. “Do you have a needle and thread? I’ll want to repair this before I head out again.”

“You can stitch it up while I cook tonight,” Jin said. His voice seemed tight to her, more reserved than it usually was. “And you’re staying the night. It’s late enough, you shouldn’t be-“

“Out in the dark?” Yuna quirked a brow, and he had the grace to laugh and raise a hand. She might have said he looked a bit apologetic, the way he ducked his head and ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“I worry. I have few enough friends, I don’t want to risk you if it’s unnecessary. And the two of us here will be safer than each of us on their own.”

“A meal and sake and a warm fire? You’ll be hard-pressed to get me to leave.” Yuna made a soft noise of amusement. “Do you have enough supplies to let me eat here tonight, or should I go down and fish, see if I can catch something?”

“I’m afraid to let you out of my sight,” he half-laughed, opening his own gourd. “I wouldn’t say no to some fresh fish, though. As long as you’re sure you aren’t hurt? Or that the Mongols will be coming after you?”

“I don’t expect them to, and if you’re that worried,” Yuna laughed, “you can bring your own line and fish with me.”

“Maybe we’ll stick to the dried fish, it’s getting dark and I don’t want to risk a patrol. There haven’t been any around here in weeks – but there’s a first time for everything. Especially if they’ve realized where some of the people antagonizing them have come from.” Jin sighed, and took a pull from the bulbous gourd full of sake. Yuna watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut for a moment and the way he sucked in his breath holding the alcohol in his mouth before he swallowed.

“Well?”

“It’s getting better,” Jin wheezed after a moment. Yuna laughed, slapping her hand down on her knee.

“I’ll tell him you said that with a straight face. Kenji will be delighted.”

“Please don’t. Then he’ll start bringing more to me and I don’t know how much of this I can drink.” Jin shifted his position, leaning his head back against the shelter wall. Yuna made a rude sound and Jin gave her a warm half-smile, cheeks rounding like apples. “It’s good to have you back here. There is only so much talking to myself I can do.”

“And here I thought you were the Ghost and just sort of… faded here and there, unnoticed, here and gone, and lived in solitude.”

A hurt look flashed across his face so quickly that Yuna thought she might have missed it, but no – it still sat there, lurking in the corners of his eyes and in a tiny wrinkle in his brow.

“Most people around here think I’m a ronin, or a trapper of some sort. Few of them think of me as the Ghost. It means I get visitors, but rarely. It’s good to have you here.” He took another drink of the sake. “So, have you been busy? You said you were harassing Mongols.”

“There’s a camp not too far – far enough away they probably won’t be bothering you much, but it looks like they just set up in the past few days. Nice string of horses, and they – the Mongols, I mean - are all looking a little worse for wear. The horses too, but I think they’ll be fine with fodder and some care.”

“I bet the local village could use them – or even one of the monasteries or temples.” Jin’s lips bowed upwards in a small smile as he thought. “How many were there?”

“Eight that I counted, maybe ten. Depends on how many Mongols were out on patrol.”

His eyes sparkled and his lips curved more, teeth flashing in a grin. She felt her own mouth answer the expression, her heartbeat picking up in anticipation.

“Let’s plan ourselves a raid, then.”

After they had finished their sake and the sun settled itself down for the night, they moved inside. Yuna was grateful for the shelter and the low fire Jin roused inside, chafing her hands against each other and warming them as the flames slowly licked higher against the brush and driftwood. Jin busied himself cooking – a skill she admired that he even had – while she pulled off her outer jacket. She settled herself down with a sharp needle and a length of silk thread, watching Jin move in the firelight. He’d made this little shelter into a home, and she felt the strange pangs of jealousy at the realization he had something counting more towards it than she did. It was fine, she reminded herself; the minute she finished cleaning out the Mongols with Jin, making Tsushima safe again, she’d be off for the mainland.

Maybe she’d be able to convince him to come along with her, for that matter – but it would need to be a lot of convincing to get him to abandon this place in favor of somewhere he’d never been. He loved Tsushima so much, going to the mainland was going to be leaving the last of what he knew behind, and she wasn’t entirely sure he’d go.

Her fingers worked precisely, making neat stitches to mend the fabric, as she thought about how she could convince him to go with her.

A bright bloom of pain in her finger made her drop the needle and thread, cursing. She pulled her hand out and caught the dark black-red of blood in the firelight before Jin’s shadow was over her, the warmth of his body suddenly close.

“What happened?”

“Pricked myself with the needle. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m starting to think maybe you had too much sake before dinner,” he teased. She looked up and arched a dark brow, and he just grinned back at her, face flickering into something solemn a moment later. “Let me see it.”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, but didn’t yank her hand back when he reached for it, cradling her fingers in his larger, broader ones. “I wasn’t paying attention and went through the fabric into my finger. I’m more worried that I lost the needle.” Had his hands always been so hot, or were hers just cold?

“We’ll find it in the morning. In the meantime, you can use one of my spares. It’s cool tonight, and I don’t want you to get unwell if it gets too cold. Every layer will count.”

She pulled her hand from his, sticking it in her mouth to suck off the wound. Jin rose and walked to a chest, pulling out one of the many jackets he’d been given during his adventures. He carried it back, proffering it to her. Smooth silk, and she couldn’t quite tell the color in the firelight, but it was embroidered intricately with carp. The embroidered koi seemed to be swimming all over the fabric as it pooled and rippled across her knees, and she couldn’t resist; she traced her fingers over one of the fish, letting out a sound of surprise and bliss at the delicate thread and smooth material.

“Jin, this is too fine for me. I can’t-“

“And how often have you seen me wear it?”

She racked her brain, then sighed and shook her head. “Never.”

“So you should wear it. What good does it do me sitting in that chest? Besides, that jacket of yours – I think it’s the same one you were wearing when we met, or nearly. You did as much work as I did, you deserve some of the spoils.”

“Pfff.” Yuna made another disbelieving sound and shook her head, but she couldn’t bear to push the jacket off her lap.

“Come on, put it on. If it truly won’t fit you, I’ll look for something else.” His mouth curved in a way she couldn’t read. She tried to give him her best exasperated look, but he crouched down by the fire again. He seemed willing enough to wait her out, with that impressive patience he cultivated. She finally broke beneath his gaze, feeling more than a little nervous as she unwrapped her belt and set all her gear neatly onto the wooden slat floor.

“You’re going to need to get this place ready for winter. Have you thought about having any of the local villagers come up and do some work on it?” She turned away from him, pulling off the battered patterned red jacket and pulling on the new one. It seemed dark blue, wrought with gold and orange and black, but only sunshine would tell. She wrapped it around herself, feeling it hang a little loose, but she felt some of her thief’s instincts kicking in, savoring the smooth material and the clear elegance and wealth of it.

She was preoccupied with fingering the edge, gathering the small bits of extra fabric around and figuring out where she would need to bring it in, especially the sleeves, when she heard Jin clear his throat.

“It suits you. You have to keep it, Yuna. You look – it looks good on you,” he corrected himself.

She glanced over to see him looking determinedly at the fire, stirring the pot of fish stew and keeping a close eye on the rice. There was a hint of pink high in his cheeks and she attributed it to proximity to the fire, because she’d not seen him get flustered once in all their time together. It was a thought she could entertain tonight, wondering if she might have gotten a response from him; wondering what it might be like if they took a tumble on the futon together.

No, Yuna – no time for that. He’d make it known if it was welcome, and you’re tarnished goods and you both know that.

“I think I will.” She flashed him a grin, wrapping her sash back on. “Finest thing I’ve ever worn, let alone owned. It’s going to get dirtied soon, I’m sure.”

“Half these walls are missing, I have no tatami…” Jin chuckled, stirring the pot again. “It’s going to be a mess in moments simply by being here. I don’t have time for maintenance of fine things anymore, Yuna. What I want – what I need – is utilitarian, simple, sturdy. Reliable.”

“Well, this is definitely not utilitarian or simple.” She folded up her old jacket, fingering the fabric. Taka had bought it for her, a lifetime ago, with the profit from one of his commissions. She couldn’t bear to part with it and tucked the battered material aside neatly with her weapons. She could repurpose it later, mend the tear when she could find the needle in the morning.

They planned the approach on the Mongol camp as they ate, Yuna sketching out a map of the camp in the air, Jin offering thoughts and proposing plans. She pointedly left out the horse that had drawn her to the camp in the first place; that would be her surprise for him. They started out with several shaku of space between them, two armlengths enough to gesture without touching, but by the time the conversation was over and their plan arranged, it was barely a handspan separating them. Yuna was reminded of the night they’d gotten drunk, finishing off several gourds of sake between them, the easy comfort that she got with alcohol and with Jin.

She turned to look at his face in profile as he spoke, not quite paying attention to what he said, just admiring his jaw and cheekbones and the fine shape of his eyes, the way the dark brown irises had gone almost black in the shadows of the firelight.

“Take the futon.” Jin’s voice broke through her thoughts, and Yuna shook her head out of habit. She turned slightly to face him and arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not taking the futon. This is your home – I won’t put you out of your bed!”

“You can, and you will,” Jin said. She shook her head again, more vehemently, and could feel her ponytail bobbing with the movements.

“I can’t. Look – I’ve eaten your food, taken your clothes, I won’t put you out of your bed. That’s a line too far, Jin. And I’ve crossed a lot of them.”

“Then…” Jin frowned. She recognized that look, the one where he was picking his words carefully. “With all politeness and good manners intended – we shall share it. I have enough blankets, and I am sure you do on your horse, with your gear.”

Yuna managed to keep her eyes from going wide as teacups, and her chopsticks creaked with the strain her fingers put on them to keep from gesturing explosively. Of course he’d offer to share his bed with her. In the most chaste way like a nun or priest or sibling. Because it was Jin and the man would be thoughtful and kind to her if it killed him. And the minute she made a move on him, he would panic, because it was Jin and he would at his core be a good man until he died, and to jeopardize that-

“I would be an idiot to turn it down, if you’re going to be so insistent,” she said instead, and was rewarded by that smile that somehow managed to wreck her, nearly every single time.

It was quite possibly the most awkward sleep of Yuna’s life. Not the most uncomfortable – there were many nights that would warrant that. Not the most unpleasant – every night at the Musashi farm had been that. But this was definitely the most awkward, as she lay still beside Jin, trying to sleep, and all the time unable. She had no idea if he truly slept or if he feigned it, but in the end she sat up, drawing the blanket up past her knees, and looked out through the broken slats on the other side of the banked fire, into the cold moonlight.

He’d be offended if she collected a blanket and slept on the other side of the hearth, but she was damnably tempted. All she wanted to do was roll into him, but the minute she did that, he’d probably panic, or – if she feigned sleep – collect blankets and go sleep somewhere else himself. Neither one of them would be happy. She found herself constantly waking, worried she had gotten too close, brushed him, touched him, something gone awry. Ichi’s words from months ago wormed their way into her head. “ _Yuna’s just a thief. And thieves have no honor. Your promises are just like you. Worthless._

She was sure she could hear the birds in the trees when sleep dragged her down the final time that night, her back to Jin and her face towards the banked fire and the ash-covered embers, feeling the warmth on her face and the warmth of Jin an armslength away.

It was definitely the most awkward sleep Jin had ever had. Not the worst, not the most uncomfortable, but fighting himself the entire time not to reach over and tug her close against him, bury his face in the soft dark fall of her hair, share his warmth with her and damn the consequences. No one would leap through the fire to attack her, and he would be at her back, and able to take any intruders before they could get to Yuna.

He knew the minute she touched him, he would come undone, and was grateful for the loose fit of his hakama as he slept. He had wanted to get close to her for months now, but he knew the kind of anguish she had endured and he refused to lay hands on her and risk ruining their friendship. He owed her his life, several times over, and guilt still raked its claws through him at his role in so much misery in her life. If he’d stood up to his uncle and demanded she and Taka be put on a ship immediately – if he had forced Taka to stay back… To lay with his sister, no matter how badly his heart burned for her, no matter how much she filled his waking mind –

Taka would have laughed, he was sure of it. Would have said that Yuna was a grown woman and could make her own decisions, and she had a busy time taking care of herself and everyone around her. She could do with having someone take care of her, for a little while. She’d shown, firmly, the entire time, that she was on his side. She took the blame for his failings and tried to enhance his successes, effacing herself into the shadows behind him. She deserved to be taken care of and put first, but the minute she thought he was coddling her, she would probably knock him onto his ass, remind him how selfish she was – _I’m just a thief_ – and anything he’d hoped for would be lost.

He sat up as the morning light burst through the ragged slats of his hovel. She’d been right (she always was) that he needed to get someone up to deal with it before winter, if he expected to survive it. There needed to be roof, and walls, and floors, and all of it meant settling down and confirming he would stay here on Tsushima. Once the last of the invaders were routed, it might be worth leaving the island and those who would have his head. Stop being Jin Sakai, the Ghost of Tsushima.

Jin turned and tucked the blanket around Yuna, shielding her from the morning chill, and rose up, stretching and working the sleep from his body. Time to make porridge, and tea, and make sure he was ready for their planned attack on the camp tonight. He rolled his shoulders and went through his morning routine, trying to keep as quiet as he could and avoid disturbing the woman sleeping on his futon. Her face was slack in sleep, rounded cheeks and chin relaxed. Not the angry woman when she had to confront the Mamushi farmstead, or the Black Wolf – but a woman who maybe, might, be at peace.

Something in her dream curved her lips and made her smile, and it was like a blow to the back of the head. He wanted to see those narrow eyes bright and dancing with that smile, at something he’d done or said.

“Enough,” he said to himself, voice oddly loud in the room. He crouched down by the fire and woke it, adding small bits of fuel to bring it back to just enough life for tea and rice porridge. He went to the small storage cache in a side room and pulled out a piece of salted salmon.

She was sitting up when he got back, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yawning broadly like a cat, all teeth, hands stretched high above her head. He pointedly looked away, trying not to focus on how she looked when she stretched, compact muscle and grace.

“How did you sleep?” That was a safe question to ask. Should be, at any rate. He halved the salmon and set it on a chipped plate, pulling the water from the fire and making tea with some, rice porridge with the rest.

“You need walls,” she said through another yawn, and he laughed.

“When this is done, you can find a carpenter. Surely someone owes you a favor.” He fished out a pair of spoons – the ones from last night – and cleaned them off with a cloth and more water.

“Jin, when this is done…” She trailed off, and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Never mind. Is that tea?”

“It needs another few minutes, but yes.”

“You’re one of the kami,” she declared, dropping back onto the futon and pulling the blanket up almost to her nose, eyes on the two steaming teacups. “And a far better person than I. Getting out of bed is always miserable.”

“Shall I yank the blankets off?”

“Do and I will skewer you with your own blade.”

Somehow, he didn’t sense she was joking. He chuckled, stirring the porridge. “I won’t pry you out. You look like a clam out of the bay, and I have a feeling you would be just as difficult to get from your shell.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever compared me to a clam before,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Always.”

She arched a dark brow, and he was wise enough to say nothing. She closed her eyes and shook her head in silent amusement, eventually sitting up and slipping a hand out to grab a teacup. She cradled the ceramic between her palms, breathing in the scent of green tea.

“So when do we head out?”

“Straight to the plan, then.” Jin ladled out porridge into two bowls, breaking one half of the salmon into chunks and dropping it into his bowl, and adding a small amount of dried seaweed to it. “Once we have everything ready – your arrows, the blades are sharpened – I thought we could ride up, see about finding a carpenter and someone to do the roof in some of the villages. We’d have a little time, see if there might be anyone interested.”

Yuna listened, or at least appeared to, with her eyes half-lidded and the teacup in her hands. She nodded, sipping at the tea. “It sounds good. I know – you owe enough people, you’ve earned enough respect that I’m sure if you sent word to the Golden Temple, you’d have craftsmen flocking here to help.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want!” Jin was sure he looked worried. “If I send word that I – or the Ghost – is looking for help, looking for favors…”

“It will bring anyone interested in the price on your head to you.” She nodded, throwing off the blanket and stretching her legs out. “If you can’t find anyone in the villages, I can always go myself, and ask. Say this place is mine.”

“And how will you explain the samurai armor, all the Clan Sakai memorabilia?”

“Easy. I worked with you, became friends with you, can’t bear to let the memory of you go.” She waved one hand flippantly. “I can make up a story.”

“Like the vengeful spirit one?”

“That wasn’t too bad,” she said, ducking her chin and grinning into her tea. “With a little time, I can think of something better.”

He began to hunt around in the small space for one of his three chipped spoons, his back to her as he spoke. “Now I’m worried. Healer, and thief, and warrior – and a storyteller besides. All these secret sides of you. What next, secretly a jīto’s daughter, or a runaway princess? ? You’re too much for me, Yuna.” He found a spoon and turned, looking back to her. He’d expected a quick quip, but her face had smoothed into blank neutrality.

What had he said?

Jin and Yuna stayed crouched down on the opposite side of the camp from where Yuna and her mare had encountered the guard. The forest turned from wooded cover to pampas grass and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers through it. He caught Yuna with a smile quirking up the corner of her lips. She ducked down and shook her head with amusement.

“So predictable,” she murmured in his ear, her breath soft on his cheek. He stifled a response, and pointed towards the camp with his chin. As the sun fell down into the waters and night crept in, the Mongols lit lamps and their campfire in the center grew taller. One vanished into a tent and returned with something that looked a lot like a biwa, but definitely wasn’t – it was squarer, and he knew from seeing one in the camps he’d raided, that the head of the instrument was an intricately wrought horse’s head.

“Let them get settled,” Jin finally murmured, and felt more than saw Yuna’s agreement, the dip of her head and a shift of her body as she settled down into a deeper crouch. Her presence was warm and familiar at his side; he could sense her breathing slow, both of theirs begin to ease into harmony as they let the camp settle and ease into their night.

An eerie, almost haunting sound began to rise from the camp. Yuna tensed beside him, and Jin reached a hand out, low to the ground, to brush against her hakama reassuringly. He leaned in towards her, painfully conscious of how close his mouth was to her ear as he whispered.

“Singing. Some kind of Mongol thing. I’ve heard them do it.”

“Then if they’re – singing, or whatever this is – are we ready?”

“Another couple of minutes. Let’s move around and come in from the side, wherever the smoke is blowing in from.”

“Keeping it in their eyes, and harder to see us. Good thinking, Jin.” Her mouth split in a genuine smile for a moment before if dropped away, and she jerked her chin. “It’s been steady out of that direction. Let’s go, quietly.”

He let her lead, trusting her thieves’ instincts and months of learning the Mongols’ tactics, to find the right position. They worked their way through the pampas around to the back of the camp, keeping in the shadows of the yurts.

“I’ll take out who I can with arrows, and you with your Ghost devices,” she murmured.

“Then – like we discussed. You drive the horses out, through the camp. That should confuse them enough to make it easier for me to take the rest of them out.” Jin turned again, taking in the determined set of her face, the way she’d pulled her hair back out of her eyes. She looked much like she had the first time they’d met, cold and determined with a task at hand. Her lips parted and he paused for her words, but then she shook her head slightly.

“Regroup after?”

“At the fire.”

There was a shadow on her face, and he thought it was the flicker of the firelight, so he said nothing. She opened her mouth again, and then closed it tightly. She pulled out her bow followed by an arrow from her quiver, and Jin reached into a pouch on his belt for one of the black powder bombs. One of those first, and then a smoke bomb, and Yuna should have the chance to get to the horses and drive them through, and then it would be a simple matter of cutting down the confused invaders that the bombs hadn’t dealt with.

Yuna stood up, nocking the arrow. She stepped around the side of the felt tent, sighted down the long arrow at a target, and loosed. She set another arrow, and then a third, to flight, and Jin watched each of them land in the throats of Mongols furthest from the fire. He was almost overcome with admiration for her utter competency, distracted by it, before the throat-singing and fiddling stopped abruptly.

“DOHJO!” The call came loud and angry, the sounds of the Mongol tongue carrying like the angry buzzing of bees. Arrows hissed through the air and thunked into the ground around Yuna and the yurt beside her. He hefted the black powder bomb in his hands, the weight heavy and almost ominous. Stepping out of the shadows, he threw the bomb as hard as he could straight towards the fire, and saw Yuna bolt backwards towards the string of horses.

Jin threw himself out of the way of the small bits of rock and metal that would go flying when the pot exploded. He rolled and tumbled around to another position, keeping out of sight. When it went off, he heard the guttural shouts and groans and even, he thought, a few screams – enough to know the bomb had done its work, and he emerged again to survey the scene. He had enough time to see where Mongols had fallen – but more importantly, where some still stood. He tossed the smoke bomb from his new position, aiming for a cluster of armored and harried-looking warriors. When it exploded, smoke billowed up and out and shrouded the area in thick, foul smoke.

It was just enough for him to go in, blade bared and eyes squinted into thin slits against the smoke, and begin to cut down the Mongols in a whirlwind. He had become the Ghost of Tsushima, and drew on every lesson he had learned since Komoda Beach to duck beneath blades, parry and block. His mind focused and narrowed to each combat, locating the warriors in his peripheral vision as the smoke cleared, and shifting his stances fluidly as he crossed his sword with other weapons.

As the last man dropped to the pounded earth some distance from the campfire, he was struck with a thought. Where were the horses? There was no sign of angry neighs or frightened whinnies, none of the thundering hooves that they had planned on. He hadn’t heard Yuna call out, either, or fresh sign of her arrows sinking into targets. Looking at the corpses strewn around him, something began to churn in his stomach. This wasn’t like Yuna, not at all.

“Yuna?” He pitched his voice low. Maybe he’d been so caught up in the fighting he hadn’t heard her, but that didn’t account for the lack of horses. There was no response, and he frowned, looking around the camp. He raised his voice. “Yuna? Are you there?”

There was still no response. His fingers tightened around his sword, and he began to move swiftly towards where the horses had been picketed in their small herd. Some stood free, but not all of them – and there was no sign of Yuna. Something had happened. Someone had interfered.

Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Jin hated the darkness over the camp at that very moment, for it made it so much harder to pick up any trace of what had happened to her. Moonlight glinted on something near the beasts, and he ran towards it, catching sight of her taichi lying on the grass, and fresh clods of dirt dug up from something. Crushed grass – leading back towards the camp. There were no signs of missing horses; he could count the cut ropes, and it matched to the horses.

He spun on his heel, pushing back towards the circle of yurts. He put Mongols out of their misery as he passed, their quiet groans too distracting when he wanted to focus – had to focus – on Yuna, on finding any sign of her. He slipped a kunai into his palm, listening as the moans died away. Whoever had taken her away was here, or had at least gone back to the camp.

Night was _too_ advantageous sometimes.

“Yuna,” he muttered, shaking his head, feeling his heart begin to pound fiercely. “Yuna, where have you gone?”

He followed the path of dragged feet, losing it as it went behind yurts opposite where he’d been fighting. Jin froze, pressing his ear to one of the felt-sided yurts and listening. Silence inside, so he moved to the next.

Silence again.

His throat was parched and it was too hard to swallow but he struggled to do so anyway, and kept moving. The third yurt, the largest of them, loomed ahead. The entry flap was opposite him, the ‘back’ pressed against a stone rising up out of the earth. He stopped and listened, and heard voices – two at least, speaking Mongolian. There were sounds from a third person – higher pitched but muffled, sounds that might have been angry or might have been pleading.

Jin had been told stories of warriors who fought so single-mindedly that their vision tunneled, that they saw nothing but red. He felt his body go white-hot with anger, the pounding of blood through his veins and buzzing in his ears. He moved as stealthily as he could to the front flap of the yurt. If it was like the others he’d been in, it would have rugs and skins on the ground and wood-latticed walls. If anything had happened to her, this yurt would be their funeral pyre. He pushed the flap aside enough to catch sight of the interior.

Two Mongols, arguing – or so it looked – between themselves. Latticed walls with rugs hanging on them, a stack of supplies to one side and thick legs of meat hanging off the wall; stolen from some village, no doubt. A bed raised off the floor by logs and rocks, covered in furs. On it, Yuna – her mouth stuffed with cloth and her hands bound behind her back, and a look that mingled fear with fury.

She must have been looking at the doorway. He met her eyes and raised a finger to his mouth for silence, and she nodded. Something sparked in her eyes and she shifted on the platform, gathering her body beneath herself. Yuna could act when she needed to; he’d seen her feign terror before, within minutes of waking up and meeting her. He hoped that some of what he saw was feigned.

She made a muffled sound, a scream or yell, and both Mongols turned towards her, one raising his hand to strike her. Jin couldn’t see what happened; he took advantage of the moment to push inside the room and race towards the Mongols. It was a matter of moments, katana swinging smoothly and elegantly from one man to the next. Yuna stilled as Jin began to move, and he was once again grateful for her clear thinking, how it would keep him from any accidental touches to her.

He slid his sword from the second man’s body and wiped it off on his jacket. He kept his hands steady as he sheathed the weapon, and then dropped down on his knees beside Yuna. He pulled the cloth from her mouth and worked quickly to untie her wrists from behind her.

“Jin.” Her voice was rough, and even the one syllable seemed difficult to say. “They got me when I was with the horses – one of them was sleeping with the string, and the other must have gone out to take a piss.”

“What happened?” He finally loosed the knot and pulled the rough rope off her pale wrists, already red and angry with the abrasion and constriction. She yanked her hands in front of her and rubbed at them.

“There was… ah, there was one horse I was trying to – to free. Was going to ride it through the camp and use it to goad the others. I got caught with it. Someone came up – that one, I think-“ and one finger pointed to the first man he’d killed. “He hit me over the head, bound me, gagged me, dragged me back here. I heard the word _süns_ a lot. I think it’s Ghost. They realized it was you – it’s the bombs,” she added, with a hint of her fire back in her eyes. “And they realized that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt a Japanese woman, so I was – worth keeping. Maybe you’d trade. They just didn’t have time to ask.”

Jin shifted around to the front of her, looking her over. It hadn’t been long, but yet he felt like he’d been dragged back through the fight with Khotun Khan on the bridge, or Komoda Beach. His heart and lungs still pounded and he felt like all his nerves were aflame, waiting for the next attack.

The camp was silent, and all he could hear were Yuna’s choppy breaths, hitching as she visibly tried to calm herself.

Jin wrapped her tightly in his arms, surprising both of them with the unabashed physical contact. She shuddered in his embrace. He could feel her heart pounding quick and hard as a hare against her ribs, thumping in time with his own, but she didn’t push away. His arms crossed over her back, and he held her close against him, trying not to make her feel trapped. “Yuna, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you now. Not now, not ever again.”

She looked up and met his eyes; she looked strangely pale to him, and he knew he was her match. She wriggled a hand up to rest on his shoulder, as if to reassure him. “You shouldn’t have risked yourself.” 

Her words were slow and deliberate, as if it was hard for her to talk, and that disturbed Jin more than anything he’d seen tonight. He wasn’t used to seeing her shaken like this; it reminded him of when they had gone to the Mamushi farmstead, and she had backed out at the end, unable to join him.

“You nearly - you could have died.” Jin’s grip loosened, but he didn’t pull away from her. Now that he had touched her, had come this close, and that she hadn’t pushed him away… It was a balm to him as much as he hoped it was to her. She fit right, against him, the heat of her hand on his shoulder the focus of all his attention.

“I could have died a lot of times before this,” she pointed out. He was unable to choke back the strangled, half-amused half-horrified sound that climbed out of his throat.

“Yes, but this time… No.” He stopped himself abruptly and shook his head. If he was going to ever say this, do this, now was the time. He dropped his hands slowly down her back, running along the thin fabric of her jacket until they found a new position low on her hips. “You got taken by surprise because of a horse? When you hadn’t come… When I saw they’d taken you, everything else fell away.”

“What are you saying?”   
Her dark eyes were glistening in the yurt’s lamplight.

“The minute – the minute I figured out what had happened, when I realized they’d taken you instead of killing you outright, I couldn’t think straight. I realized then that none of this… it doesn’t matter if I don’t have you around to share it with me.”

“With me?” Her voice was slow, and he felt his stomach drop and continue plummeting down into the earth. She had to be drunk, or maybe drugged; that was the only way she could be so slow. They hadn’t had time to do that – so what was wrong? She was headstrong, yes, but had a quick and clever mind – she had to know, had to have guessed by now.

“How could it be with anyone else? You’ve been with me, fighting and planning. You saved my life, and I’ve saved yours. I wouldn’t be here without you. I owe everything to you, and over the months, I’ve hoped to find a way to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

Did she know how frustrating she was being? Was this malicious, making him drag it out? Or had she genuinely not realized, not known how he felt? He let out another a stifled laugh at the thought, both of them so utterly caught up in their own pasts and worries not to realize what was happening right in front of them.

“Stay with me, Yuna. I don’t want to spend so much time fighting alone. We work better as a pair, anyway. Plus, who’s going to patch me up when I need it? And remind me of what we should do instead of what my impulses tell me to? And nag me about my old samurai ways?” Jin’s voice dropped, his fingers twitching over her jacket with nervousness. They clenched and released almost compulsively. He kept his eyes on her face, the way her mouth had gone slack, her eyes neutral and almost shuttered.

“Jin Sakai, that seems close to an admission.” She spread her hand out over his chest, and he was sure she could feel the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.

“It is.” He licked his lips. Was her mouth as suddenly parched as his was? “I love you, Yuna. I was - the thought of what would have happened to you - all for a _horse_ -”

“It looked like your old one,” she admitted after a few long moments. “I wanted to get that one for you. Samurai-trained, it looked like. You deserve to have a good thing once in a while.”

He knew he looked as if one of his own explosives had gone off in front of him, eyes wide and blinking, mouth hanging a little slack. Stunned. She looked almost as startled. He swallowed around something in his throat, and it was far more difficult than it should have been. Finally he closed his mouth and licked his lips. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost so low that she had to lean in to hear it.

“You’re a good thing, Yuna. Forget the horse. I want you.”

“Right.” She swallowed, then started to chuckle a little. It was as if a dam inside her had broken, and the small sounds turned into a string of laughter. He blinked, pulling his head back just a bit, mouth opening briefly once more. He could feel his eyes pull as his forehead tightened in confusion. Laughing? What had he done that she was laughing at him?

“Jin… I’ve… for months, I’ve been wondering how oblivious you were. It was so hard to send you to fight your uncle, not knowing what would happen. So hard to say that you belonged to everyone, when I wanted to be selfish, to stay with you. I was hoping that if I could bring you your horse, maybe you would realize what I was trying to say, trying to do, in that stupid indirect samurai way.” Laughter kept bubbling out of her like fresh water from a spring, nervous.

He blinked a few times, and then he joined in her laughter. They really had both been so caught up in themselves and their worries, focused on the Mongols and Tsushima and the problems and pain that had brought them here, unable to see the promise of something good in front of them.

“And here,” he admitted, throat tight, “I thought… I was afraid if I said anything, knowing how much you resented me, resented samurai, I would lose our friendship. I value that more than anything else. I didn’t want you to feel like I wanted to take advantage of your friendship, or to play on your experiences. And from what you said…” His hands crossed over her back again, gripping her differently, more tightly. “I thought I’d be the last person you would ever want to consider sharing pillows with.”

“Sometimes you’re an idiot, Jin Sakai.” She let out a breath, body still trembling with laughter. “You respected me so much you wouldn’t dare?”

“You saw Lady Masako! Do you have any idea what she’d do to me if I made an unwanted approach?” The idea horrified him, and he had no worries that Masako would utterly destroy him, no matter what he had done for Tsushima, if she thought he’d laid a hand on an unwilling woman. “I’ve been raised to respect women, Yuna. I wouldn’t dare risk making an assumption. Between what Lady Masako would do, and what you would do, I thought it was safest if I kept my hands – and my thoughts – to myself.”

“You’re an idiot,” she repeated, “but a sweet one.”

“You can yell at me later,” Jin chuckled, suddenly relieved, “but not here – not in a Mongol yurt. Let’s take any supplies we can, take the horses, and get out of here before any others show up.”

“I like the rugs,” she said after a moment. “And you could use something for your floors.”

He couldn’t help the laughter as he slung an arm around her shoulder and held her close at his side. Yuna the pragmatist. “Perhaps not the one they’re bleeding on, though?”

Rugs and supplies and furs tucked under their arms, Jin and Yuna slipped back inside his home later that night, the moon hanging high in the sky. The horse Yuna had been so determined to get was tied up outside. Jin had – grudgingly – admitted its marked similarity to his late and dearly-loved beast. When they stepped inside, there was no door to shut behind them; dropping the fabric flaps only did so much for a sense of closure to the events of the night.

“Jin-“

“Yuna, before you say anything. You… everything you went through, before, just-“

“For once in your life, Jin Sakai, shut up and just kiss me.”

He blinked, and she laughed as he did, his mouth closing suddenly on the rest of what he wanted to say. He stepped towards her, fingers running along the edge of the koi-patterned jacket. He could feel the warmth of her body through the layers of fabric. He wanted to peel her layers off piece by piece until he could see all of her stretched out – in sunlight, or maybe in the dark and lit by the fire, all bright flame and the shadowed, secret places he could explore at his leisure.

He turned his head down towards her, breath warm against her cheek, his eyes open and meeting her own gaze. He stopped a fraction of a heartbeat away from her, such a thin space even the blade of his sword could not have found space between them. His mouth was dry, and he tried to swallow, failing. Her fingers found purchase on his own jacket, and he could feel her body press a little closer towards him. She tugged him in and he went willingly, and for the first time, their lips brushed against each other.

He could die now and be happy. Her lips were smooth and soft and warm, and one of his hands slid up to cup the back of her head, weaving through the hair not up in her ponytail. He was careful and gentle and letting her lead, until she pressed her mouth against his harder, making sounds he hoped were encouraging. She let her mouth open and he opened his to match, deepening the kiss. He wanted to open his eyes, and be sure it was still her, still Yuna, but that would be more than impolite.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admitted breathlessly. He tipped his forehead against hers and laughed, his other hand cupping her face, thumb sliding across her cheek. “Azamo Bay, after you rescued Taka, I almost did. I just didn’t – how could I say thank you? Show you how important it was, how grateful I was for what you’d done?”

“After we rescued Taka, you mean.” He brushed his nose against hers. “And all you did was nod. You were so perfectly serene, then – holding it all together for Taka, for Kenji, for me. You’ve always been so strong.”

“Years of practice,” she said dryly, and swiped the pad of her thumb across his lower lip. He swallowed as she dragged it across, and apparently his awkward silence was just what she wanted; he was rewarded with another flash of a smile that went all the way up to her eyes, crinkling the corners. “I don’t… Heh. I don’t know how to do anything more than something haphazard, something like riders passing in the night. I don’t know how to do this.” There was a hint of pink to her cheeks.

“Always a surprise with you,” he muttered. “I don’t know either, but we’ve done pretty well so far. I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Together.” He leaned in for another kiss. Her hands cupped his face, two bright spots of heat, her skin smooth against the rough stubble of his several-days-unshaven beard. They fit together easily, almost too easily; he sought her taste out from the corners of her mouth, felt her hands try to draw him closer. Even when they broke for breaths, they didn’t part very far, and it wasn’t long before he was dizzy on her, as drunk on Yuna as he ever had been on sake from Kenji or Kii brewery.

One of her hands grazed and danced down his sleeve, catching onto his wrist and seizing it in her strong fingers. She drew him across the room towards his futon and the mess of blankets. He could read the question in her eyes and was all too interested in answering it. He wasn’t sure if it was his hands or hers that stripped him out of the Ghost armor; he was too dazed, remembering the taste of her on his tongue. He kept looking over, reassuring himself she was still there, as she divested herself just as quickly of all her gear until she stood there in soft folds of fabric, all her sharp edges laid aside.

Abruptly, he cleared his throat. “Let me get the fire going again. I know I’m not going to want to deal with it later.” He looked at her, gauging her response; a lick of the lips and a nod, her eyes big and dark in the starlight.

It was the longest few minutes of his life, wondering if she would change her mind, but knowing full well they’d enjoy themselves far more with the luxury of warmth around them. There was no need for samurai austerity right now. When he looked back up, he saw her settled on the futon, blankets flipped invitingly aside, and dressed down to her underlayers. The carp-patterned jacket had been folded with an unexpected precision at set neatly by the pillows.

He joined her on the thin padded bedding, and for a moment Jin remembered being a fumble-fingered novice years ago. As it was, he brought Yuna into his lap and resumed kissing her, his fingers gliding down her neck and along her shoulders. He would be happy to spend hours doing this, just kissing and touching and finding out if everywhere tasted as good as her mouth did. Her smell, something of of woodsmoke and sweat and happiness, filled his nose. It was hers, and as fine as the best perfumes anyone had ever made. His fingers cupped her head, tugging away first at the headband and then at the cord securing her hair. Her dark locks spilled down, and he gently finger-combed them as he kissed her. When he pulled away again, her eyes seemed to glow even brighter. If she hadn’t always been this beautiful, he was an absolute fool of a man.

Brushing along his shoulders, her fingers warmed quickly against his skin. They trailed sparks along his nerves, jolts of lightning that drew his focus wherever they touched as she cautiously explored, parting his shirt, spreading wide across his chest and trailing down towards his navel. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to the underside of her jaw and working his way down along the column of her throat to her collarbone, and then very carefully parting her shirt and kissing his way down. At some point she lay down, and he stretched out beside her, and his mouth resumed its path. Fingers following in its wake, he nipped and licked and kissed his way across her skin.

One of her hands knotted itself in his hair, a careful guide. He was more than happy to let her be in control; feeling her body tense and arch beside him was reward enough. He could feel his skin flush, all of his body almost unbearably warm between the efforts of the fire and the way she kept stoking the heat of his desire. He kept going back to her mouth, losing himself in her, the feel of her own hands playing across him and driving the last of coherent thought from his mind.

Dazed and replete with pleasure, Yuna dropped back onto the futon, grinning broadly. She turned to look at Jin, and found what she was sure was an equally pleaed look on his face. He snaked an arm around her shoulder, rolling her into him, his palms and fingertips tracing long, smooth lines from her shoulder down her back, up, down her biceps and triceps, and back again. She spread one of her hands on his chest, thumb making small circles over his pounding heart. This was good. They had waited so long for this, but there was a rightness to it, and she was going to savor it as long as it lasted. She sighed with satisfaction, tucking herself against his chest and breathing in the smell of him.

“Something’s on your mind,” he murmured. “Care to share?”

“Oh.” She blinked, and then lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Before, you said I was too much, I thought…”

“Oh no.” Jin stopped talking abruptly, and something sparked in his gaze. “I want all of you. The thief and the storyteller and the actress, the warrior, the healer. And whatever other sides of you I can find.”


End file.
